


Beautiful is She Who Wanders in My Dreams

by ShippingSynergy



Series: GothicKlonnieWeek2018 [1]
Category: The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 20:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19034839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippingSynergy/pseuds/ShippingSynergy
Summary: Oneirataxia - inability to distinguish between fantasy and reality.Badly wounded, Klaus wondered if the woman he saw in the forest was actually a figment of his imagination.





	Beautiful is She Who Wanders in My Dreams

Ever since he could remember, Klaus usually found himself going into Ayana’s hut in need of her healing magic. Especially since his mother, Esther, have only the basic knowledge of herbal treatments and sorcery; whereas Ayana held years of experience under her belt. Bruises, scrapes, cuts, broken bones, and even the occasional burns will get him sent to be cared by her capable hands. Most of the wounds were only minor and could easily be mended with a brief incantation or a thick smelly salve. But this time; no salve, potion, or curative spell could easily heal the wounds inflicted upon him.

His body lay bleeding and broken upon a thin cot situated near the hearth at the center of the hut. His beige-colored skin appeared pale and translucent within the barely lit room. Angry red welts slashed vertically across the expanse of his back, the marks wrought by a corded whip. The injuries was still fresh and weeping, the stench of blood heavy in the small room, nearly overpowering the scent of herbs and burning pinewood. A motley pattern of scratches and bruises blemished his face, blue and purple and yellowish in hue. A gradually swelling eyebrow bulged over his left bloodshot eye. His left ankle was twisted and swollen, while his right leg was bent in an unnatural angle. So wounded was he, Elijah and Finn had to carry him out of the forest and past whispering spectators. The villagers had congregated after news spread of a wandering hunter catching sight of Klaus slouched figure tied to an oak tree.      

He was left alone to suffer in those woods. For hours, he clung to that oak tree in agony as punishment for his sin. Klaus suffered at the callous hands of his father, Mikael, for the death of his youngest brother. He did not mean for Henrik to meet his untimely demise. The trip into the forest was only meant to be a fun and exciting excursion to see the wolf pack that lived beyond the borders of the village. Klaus was aware of the dangers, but he could not deny the instinctual pull he felt towards the werewolves. As such, he was compelled to trek deep into the Howling Hills with his brother, despite Mikael’s many threats and his mother’s constant warnings against doing so. The Hunter’s Moon, full and bright, helped guide them around the thickets of brambles as they carefully step over slick stone. White wispy puffs of breathe escape from their mouths with each exhale, as they drew nearer to the pack. Bays and howls, a primal inhuman song, reverberated in the air and through Klaus’s bones. From behind a wide twisted trunk of an ancient oak tree, safely hidden by low hanging branches, the brothers watched silently.       

Wolves of differing colors and sizes converged together, chasing and tumbling in zealous spirit, and at the center of the pack was a woman. She was small in stature and very much human. Klaus stared with rapt attention as she danced among them. Her brown skin glowed from the light of the luminous moon and the ring of flaming torches embedded in the ground. Long black hair, with colorful beads entwined in a few strands, swayed with each swing of her curvaceous hips. She wore a tan dress embellished with blue ribbons and floral embroidery. The skirt of the dress was clenched tight in her hands and held high enough to brush across her smooth calves, as some of younger wolves leaped up to playfully nip at the ends of the fabric. Her green eyes twinkled as she laughed boisterously. His heart quickened at the sound and his flesh felt flush under the collar of his tunic. She was a sight, earthy and lovely….

Klaus remembered every sound, sight, and scent of that night. He could also remember the incident that led to his brother’s gruesome death, and that knowledge haunted him more than the image of the dancing woman. However, with every crack of the whip and each harsh word Mikael flung at him, the memory of her grew distant. Her youthful face, warm green eyes, and untamed laughter drifted into the deep recess of his mind. By the twenty-fourth strike, he was sure she was only a figment of his imagination. A wonderful dream that he created as a means of relief from the torture he had to endure. The only thing he was certain of was a name (or at least he hoped he was certain). A name that he was sure defined everything that she was and befitting of her spirit. A name that fell from his dry blood-crusted lips in fervent whispers as Ayana gently rubbed poultice on his raw back. “ _Bonnie_.”                

**Author's Note:**

> I written this short fanfiction for 2018 Gothic Klonnie week last year on tumblr. This drabble was originally posted on my tumblr blog: ss-algena-art.tumblr.com, which I am deactivating so all of my fanart and short fanfiction will be posted to ss-algena.tumblr.com from now on. Please check out my tumblr blog for more content. 
> 
> All of my writing have NOT been beta read and is self-edited, so there may be some grammar and punctuation mistakes. Constructive criticism is welcomed!


End file.
